From the very opening, there is beauty in the words from Declan Greene’s pen. Fragmented passages open and close the play, with scenes in between written in a more traditional flowing dialogue. “I’m so fat. I’m so stupid. I’m so stupid and fat and boring”. The short, punchy lines provide immediacy and rhythm and it’s a style that suits the narrative. In the larger context, though, the momentum is carried by the delivery of each scene and gradually quickens until the play’s conclusion.

It’s not just the construction of language though, but also its selection – sometimes raw, sometimes tender, and at times both. Simple observations that would generally remain unnoticed are captured and articulated fluently. “She would cup my breasts, my pimpled ass”. The audience squirms – perhaps because of the aggressive detail, the confessional delivery, or because Greene is actually putting the viewer under a microscope.

While the opening lines provide unrelated ideas and commentary, an overarching narrative is built as the two characters converge – the man with his miserable marriage and addiction to pornography, and the woman with her violent ex-husband and perpetual debt. This story is not about...